


Just an Act

by bumblebi221



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boston Pride, Dancing, Day At The Beach, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Slow Dancing, United States
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebi221/pseuds/bumblebi221
Summary: Prompt for @imapala67-aka-baby on Tumblr: Can you do a JohnLock fic where they both go to another state with Greg to solve a mystery but they are undercover so they pose as gay couples. And at the beginning it's just acting (though both of them don't even try and are just their usual selves but other people referring to them as a couple makes them both fluster) and at the end Sherlock and John are walking on the streets (of the same city) and then they hear some music and they both dance and play a little and Sherlock just says that this fake act was a nice one but he would like to make it real.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 14





	Just an Act

“John.” Sherlock sat down on his chair, leaning forward excitedly. Despite the fact that he’d only just woken up, there was no trace of tiredness on his face. John looked up from the morning paper, still a bit groggy.

“What is it, Sherlock?” he yawned.

“Lestrade called. He has a case for us!”

“That’s great, Sherlock. What is it?”

“It’s in America!” John’s eyes widened. He set down the paper, turning all his attention to Sherlock.

“America?” Sherlock nodded eagerly.

“Think about it, John - fresh territory, fresh criminals, fresh crime!”

“That’ll be good for you. You’ve been a bit difficult lately.”

“It’s not my fault there aren’t any good cases.”

“Where in America will we be going?” John said after a pause.

“New England.”

“Where in New England?”

“Cape Cod.”

“Oh, nice, maybe we can have a beach day while we’re there.”

“John, the case.”

“Right. What is it?”

“A missing persons and a murder. Possibly the missing person is the murderer, but evidence doesn’t look like it. The head officer on the case is a cousin of Lestrade’s, which explains why he’s so confused and needs our help.”

“Got it. Any ideas?”

“Eleven, so far. But I’ll know more when we get there.”

“When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Jesus, Sherlock… alright. I’ll call the clinic, let them know I’ll be out. And I guess we have to start packing… does Mrs. Hudson know?” Sherlock left the room while John rattled off everything that had to be done.

The next day, after the plane had touched down at Logan, and the long car ride had been taken, Sherlock, John, and Lestrade settled into their lodgings. It was a small house just outside Provincetown, where the murder had taken place. The house had two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small living room, and a small kitchen. There was an outdoor shower and a yard with a tetherball pole. It was nice and quaint.

“How should we do rooms?” John asked, setting his suitcase on the floor. “There’s three of us and two rooms. Should someone take the couch?”

“For your benefits, I’d like my own room. I tend to sprawl out and make the bed uninhabitable for the other person.” Lestrade said, though there was a hint of suppressed excitement that John couldn’t explain. He left to go unpack in his room, leaving John and Sherlock in the living room.

“Okay. Sherlock, how should we decide who gets the last room?”

“We could just share.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t sleep much. It would be almost like getting your own room.”

“But-” 

“It’s fine. You can sleep in the same bed as someone but not be gay, John.”

“Fine.” The two set their luggage down on the bed and met with Lestrade in the kitchen.

“So how are we going about the investigation, Sherlock?” Lestrade asked.

“Provincetown - or P-Town - is a very openly gay-friendly town. I was thinking two of us pose as a couple and chat up some residents while the other one looks for clues.”

“I’d be happy to pose as a couple with one of you if it’ll help the case,” said Lestrade, who had pulled a sandwich out of nowhere and was quickly eating it.

“No, Lestrade, thank you. You’re a bit too obviously straight.”

“And I’m not?” asked John, slightly offended, though he knew he shouldn’t be. Sherlock ignored him and continued with the plan.

“Okay, Lestrade, you’ll look for clues while John and I meet the locals.”

“Got it. Now, what should we do for dinner?” Lestrade asked.

“There’s an Italian seafood place in town, Fanizzi’s, that’s supposed to be good,” Sherlock offered.

“Sounds like a plan,” said John. The three set out for town, enjoying the cool evening air. As they turned onto the street where the restaurant was, however, Lestrade stopped.

“I just remembered,” Lestrade said. “I’m not that hungry after all. Sandwich, you know.” Sherlock nodded warily and waved goodbye as the DI turned around for home. The sun was sinking lower in the sky as the host led Sherlock and John to their table. It was outside, and they had a clear view of the waterfront and the setting sun.

“Sherlock, this seems a bit… romantic.”

“Well, we are posing as a couple. We need to look the part.” John sighed and turned to the menu. A moment later, their waitress appeared.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“I’ll have the fish and chips, please,” said Sherlock, smiling cordially. He handed his menu to the waitress as she turned to John.

“Er, the lobster roll looks good. Thanks.”

“I’ll be back soon with your order,” she promised, turning to go inside. The boys sat silently for a while, John taking in the view and Sherlock scanning the restaurant for suspicious-looking people.

“So, Sherlock, what do you think?” asked John, making a face. They didn’t do small talk.

“About what? The case? The restaurant?”

“Anything.”

“Eight ideas.” John chuckled as Sherlock resumed his investigation.

The waitress brought their meals, and the boys ate in mostly silence. Sherlock was focused on the case, and John simply didn’t know what to say.

They finished their meal, and once they’d paid the bill, they left for the rental house. It was now completely dark out, save for the lights of town and a smattering of houses. It was quiet and peaceful, just the two of them walking under the stars.

“So, Sherlock, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” John asked.

“Meet the locals. I have a few target places in mind, but anywhere’s helpful.”

“Great.” Sherlock turned to John.

“John, I get the feeling you’re not comfortable with playing gay.”

“Me? What - no, I’m - I’m totally cool with it.”

“You don’t have to do anything special. We just say we’re a couple and that’s that.”

“That sounds simple.” Sherlock grinned.

“Piece of cake, eh, John?” John chuckled.

When they reached the house, the lights were low, and the ones in Lestrade’s room were completely off.

“He didn’t even wait up,” whispered Sherlock, grinning. John suppressed a giggle. They brushed their teeth and hurried to bed, exhausted from all the traveling. When it came time to undress, however, John felt more than a bit awkward.

“Should I go into the bathroom?” he asked, cheeks growing warm.

“Just turn your back,” said Sherlock, who seemed unfazed by it all. John sighed and turned around, getting into his pyjamas in record time. Sherlock seemed to be taking his sweet time, however. Finally John gave up waiting and climbed into bed. Sherlock followed suit soon after, though he was wearing much less than John was. John was in striped matching pyjamas. Sherlock was wearing just a pair of briefs.

“Does it bother you?” asked the detective, tilting his head slightly. John felt his cheeks turning red again.

“No,” he huffed, and turned over. He was now facing the wall. “Turn off the lights.”

“Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

Day two of the Cape Cod case. It was not John’s morning. First, he woke up to Sherlock sprawled across the bed like an octopus. Liar. Second, Sherlock was muttering things in his sleep. About John. There were also other… things. In addition to that, John had also done the things. He didn’t want to do the things, and yet his body did them anyway. This trip was a disaster.

Lestrade noticed, too. And he was not letting it go.

After a somewhat awkward breakfast where only Lestrade was willing to make conversation, the three split into two groups. Lestrade went to the police to get as much info as possible on the case, while Sherlock and John headed to the beach to chat up the locals.

“John, we need to wear beach wear.”

“But I’m not going to be swimming.”

“We need to look like we are.” John sighed. He was quickly growing tired of this case. More than anything, he just wanted to be back at Baker Street. He rifled around in his suitcase for his bathing suit and went into the bathroom to change. He would not be undressing in the same room as Sherlock for most definitely the rest of his life.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he found Sherlock struggling with the sunscreen. He had poured too much of it into his hands, and now his face was white as a marshmallow. He had splotches of white all along his arms where he’d tried to wipe off the excess lotion. His swimsuit was a small pair of purple shorts, and he’d thrown a black tee on over it. He had sunglasses perched on top of his head and was wearing bright green sandals. Sherlock was rubbing the lotion on his face in vain when he realized John had walked in.

“Oh, hello, John.”

“Having some trouble with the suntan lotion?” asked John, suppressing a chuckle.

“It wasn’t working, so I squeezed it harder and then it all came out very suddenly.” John nodded, grinning.

“Just wipe it off with a towel.” Sherlock’s eyes widened as he realized how simple it was.

“Right,” he said, and hurried off to the bathroom.

“Where did you get those sandals?” John asked.

“Tourist shop. I forgot to pack mine and they only had these hideous bright colors.” Sherlock complained. John laughed.

“They suit you,” he said.

“They do not!” insisted Sherlock.

Once Sherlock had removed enough of the sunscreen, the boys left for the beach. They picked a spot near the water, but not so near they’d have to move at the tide. They were near a gay couple; one was burying the other in sand. The one with the shovel turned around and waved at them.

“Hi!” he said cheerily. The boys waved back. “You enjoying P-Town so far?” he asked. They nodded. “It’s so refreshing to go somewhere and not have to worry about what could happen to us… it’s great.” The boys nodded again. “So how long have you two been together?” Sherlock and John both felt their cheeks grow hot as they stuttered an answer. Finally John got out “not long.” Their neighbor chuckled and gestured to his boyfriend.

“We’re going on six months. That’s why we took a trip.”

“Oh, congratulations,” said John. Their neighbor smiled.

“Thanks. Have fun here!” He turned back to his partner and continued burying him (the sand was up to his neck). Then Sherlock tapped John’s shoulder.

“John.”

“Yeah, Sherlock?”

“Rub lotion on my back.”

“Wh- why?”

“That’s what couples do.” John nodded silently and took out the sunscreen as Sherlock lay on his belly, face buried in his arms. He looked the picture of relaxation, but John knew he was probably mulling over the case. John placed his lotion-covered hands on Sherlock’s back and began rubbing awkwardly. Then Sherlock started to hum. At first, John was mortified at rubbing lotion on Sherlock’s back, but after a while it felt… nice. John was surprised he was thinking that, but somehow he didn’t care.

The rest of the trip followed a similar pattern. People wouldn’t wait for an explanation and assume they were a couple, then the boys would nod along, flustered, and awkwardly attempt to show affection. One time, Sherlock came out of nowhere and kissed John on the cheek. Lestrade had managed to snap a picture, much to John’s chagrin. But now the case was solved, Sherlock lauded, and it was time to head back to London. They made it to Boston long before they needed to be at the airport, so they decided it would be fun to walk around a bit. They didn’t have a particular destination in mind; they just went wherever they felt like. At some point, they passed a bakery, and Lestrade wanted to go in. He went to go get some pastries (it was a very late flight and they were hungry), and Sherlock and John waited outside. Neither of them spoke a word, but Sherlock seemed strangely on-edge. John chalked it up to being in a strange new city that Sherlock hadn’t committed to memory yet.

After the pastries, they went to the Boston Common, and it was just then they realized what day it was - it was the fourth of July, and people were gearing up for a big celebration. People walked around with sparklers and flag-colored sunglasses while others set up fireworks. Music was playing loud, everything from Dirty Water to Sweet Caroline. It was as the song came on that Sherlock pulled John aside, away from Lestrade.

_Wasn’t the spring…_

“Care to dance?” he asked, seeming very nervous. John hesitated.

“S-sure. We can dance.” He took Sherlock’s outstretched hands and they began an awkward foxtrot.

_Hands, touching hands…_

“John.”

“Yes?”

“This… this act, the pretend couple… I actually - I quite enjoyed it.”

“Hm? It was… it was fun, yeah.” John didn’t know where this was going.

“I was wondering… if we could maybe try it for real?” John looked up at Sherlock’s face. His icy blue eyes were wide and vulnerable, his mouth was just open. John didn’t know if it was Sherlock, or the music, or the past few days, but without thinking, he closed the gap between them, up on his toes, and kissed him. He kissed Sherlock and forgot all about the awkwardness, because this was what he wanted. He knew that now.

_Sweet Caroline_

_Good times never seem so good…_


End file.
